


shall we dance

by crystallizedcherry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon, Drabble, F/M, Independence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/crystallizedcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He let her go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shall we dance

_hetalia (c) hidekazu himaruya_

* * *

She let the smile of hers be the last thing he saw.

Along with the unusually gentle, polite refusal to his offer of escorting her to the airport, Seychelles left his house.

More people departed. Though his enormous vast house was not that empty since some of the rooms were still occupied—periodically, those who decided to keep the constitutional monarchy still owned the places—he couldn't help the feeling of lonely, insecurity and regret, sometimes.

But what could be more wrong, than to keep people away from the freedom they had yearned for so long?

England paced back to the library of the house. He thought he needed his tea.

The black one tonight. Less sugar.

.

* * *

 

.

That night, he could not sleep more. He knew life would run along with the time but sometimes things could not play smooth with the flow. He just could not let go of certain things for unbearably annoying, anonymous reasons.

England walked towards his personal desk. Impulsively, he took a piece of paper.

He began to talk with his handwriting.

_Shall we dance_ ,     

he offered.

Whether she would accept the invitation or not; he didn't care that much. He just wanted to make the (almost) broken ties closer and better. Was he wrong for trying to reach her for an apology? For he was sorry for everything.

**_Everything_**. He contemplated the word.

.

* * *

 

.

Seychelles accepted it.

She came, with delegations she brought for the first time's diplomatic talks. He held a ball along with a dinner and despite thousands of his denials, he attempted to reach her in the middle of the Stradivarius violin plays that fit the criteria of a perfect night.

But perfection was only meant to be a theory for world, human, and its life.

While they were dancing, England looked at her eyes and she was that time gazing up at him. Such an eye-to-eye meeting he had been counting the seconds for.

He saw her life inside the mirror. She was independent, she was a smart girl, indeed, and she loved to be adored for her own hands' works for her land. She loved to be crazily indulging herself into the new paperworks waiting for her. She was ready to show the world her potentially talents. She was ready for the hindrances; and she was ready too for the smile the world would welcome her with.

With all, he knew,

she had never been his.

And they were separated entities.

She would never been his completely.


End file.
